Live and Let Die
by TheOtherGinny
Summary: This isn't a song fic, despite the title, I'm just not good with titles. Basically Harry's stay at the Burrow before he fights the final battle. Light drama, light fluff. Better summary with the next chapter.


Disclaimer: As marriages performed by crazed teenage females, especially when those crazed teenage females are wedding a fictional character, are not recognized in most societies, then you must know that I own nothing, nor am I legally married to the wonderful Harry Potter.

Author's Note: I didn't think I could accept the fact that Dumbledore died, and I'm not sure I will be able to handle writing about a Dumbledore-less world, but I shall try.

It was a hot summer's evening, and a certain young raven-haired man lay on his small bed, his t-shirt soaking with sweat. How long had he been laying there you might ask? Exactly 5 minutes, as his aunt had forced him to tend to the gardens until the sun had gone down.

Now he lay there wondering how long his short visit with the Dursleys was going to last; he'd been there only thirty-two hours (yes, he was counting). A thought wedged into his mind and he shook his head as if to force it out.

"The Weasleys wouldn't come get me this early…" Harry muttered to himself, yet he looked towards his open window with a glimmer of hope. As if by magic, Harry could hear his name being called up the stairs. He forced himself to stay calm as he bounded down the steps.

_Uncle Vernon just wants me to washes the dishes or something, that's all. _

When Harry reached the landing, he looked around for the blob of man he called his uncle.

"In here, boy." An angry voice said.

Harry quickly strode towards the family room, silently scolding himself for not pretending to be asleep.

"Yes?" Harry asked, his voice faltering slightly as he took in the scene before him. Aunt Petunia was sitting with one hand clamped over her mouth, the other was clutching the arm of her chair. Uncle Vernon was looking more like a purple blimp than a man and was pulling bits of his mustache out. When he was aware of Harry's presence he pointed a slightly shaking finger at the television.

"What's your lot…doing…doing on…on the news?" Uncle Vernon roared.

Harry's heart started to skip beats and leap around very uncomfortably as Harry neared the t.v.

"…strange disturbances this evening. On site is Stan Ricker."

"Yes, well, to wrap up what has been a devasting report: what appears to be a horrible accident seems to have left several dead and many more dead. Police have been searching for the cause of the event and as of yet have no suspects."

Harry tried to keep a calm face as he turned to look at his uncle.

"Why does this have anything to do with 'my lot'?"

Once again Uncle Vernon jabbed his index finger towards the television.

Harry turned back in time to see a recap of the 'accident'. Hovering in the air above a mass of confusion and destruction was an unmistakeably green omen.

How can the Muggles think it's an accident when the Dark Mark still lingers? 

He swallowed and ran his hand through his hair. Just when he'd found his voice and was about to ask how the Dursleys knew this had something to do with wizards when there was an urgent knock on the door.

Harry grabbed his wand from the waist of his jeans as he crossed the hall and made his way towards the door. He took a deep breath before pulling open the door to reveal a rather frazzled-looking wizard.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, Harry, come quickly, we must go before anyone spots us. I wasn't sure what to do…I figured Dumbledore would've…." He trailed off as he wiped his brow.

"My things…" Harry began.

"We'll come back for them later, we need to hurry."

Harry definitely didn't need to be coaxed to leave the Dursleys, so he shouted that he'd return for his things and ran out the door after Mr.Weasley, who had already started walking towards the garden.

"How…how are we going to get to – " Harry started but Mr.Weasley held up his hand to stop him.

"Headquarters are no longer located there, at least for now." He said in a low voice.

"Then where are we- "

"Harry, please, just grab onto my arm."

Harry did as he was told and felt the same odd sensation that he had felt the first time he apparated.

He looked up a second later and as he recognized the cluttered kitchen, a small grin crept up on his face.

A second later he could no longer see anything because Mrs.Weasley had swept him into one of her famous hugs.

"Great to see you dear." She muttered while re-adjusting his shirt collar.

"Oh, mum, leave him alone." A pleasantly familiar voice said.

The beast in Harry's heart started to purr again until Harry reminded it that he could no longer love her openly.

"Hi Ginny."

"Hey, you've got to come see this…" Ginny said and started walking towards the stairs, Harry practically on her heels.

They reached the first landing and Ginny pointed towards the window that overlooked the back of the Burrow.

_Finally those two admitted their feelings._ Harry thought as he watched his two best friends snuggle under the now starry sky.

"Enough to make a person sick, huh?" Harry said jokingly.

"Well, she's not got any summer work to complete, and there's not much to do around here." Ginny replied.

"Oh, that's wonderful."

They both laughed.

"So, are we going to find out what's going on yet?" Harry asked a little impatiently.

"The Order's meeting right now; we'll know something when Dad gets home. Come on let's play chess while we wait."

Author's Note: I know it's short for a first chapter (or any chapter for that matter), but I didn't want to continue if it's uninteresting. So please, review, tell me it's horrible and put the rest of the readers out of their suffering…or you can say something nice, if you really want. Congratulations on making it this far. School's starting soon, and I'm enrolling into a brand new district, and it's my first year of high school, to top it off, so I probably will be very busy with homework every night, which means I'll be in here brainstorming AND procrastinating. I know, I'm a great multi-tasker. Anyway, I've always been annoyed by authors who beg for good reviews, so I'm begging for anything.


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